Under Cover
by Larxenethefirefly
Summary: A woman takes a man home. Not all is as it seems.


The pub was quiet, only muted tones from the old music generator in the back corner filling the space. The man behind the bar was cleaning the glasses and making a note of the inventory, and the waitress was cleaning the tables. He slumped further onto the table, frowning slightly at the sticky substance on the table top under his cheek. Five months he'd been in this place, and all he had to show for it was death threats and a packet of files that would determine his future depending on what he did with it.

Footsteps shuffled closer. "'scuse me, we're closing. Do you want to finish or should I clean up?" the waitress asked.

He peeled himself from the surface of the table and attempted to stand, but stumbled against her. "Easy there," she said gently. "Do you have a ride?"

"Gone," he croaked back.

The woman smiled compassionately. "Don't worry, I'll get you home. Thom, I'll be going now."

Thom didn't even look up. "Remember, you have work at three tomorrow."

"It's just a lift home, Thom," she replied, then set off towards the door with him leaning on her. "What's your name?"

"Peter Smith," he managed to reply. "I'm… oooohhh… well I was a receptionist at Baker and Baker. Now I'm nobody."

"Well, Mr. Smith, you're quite heavy for a nobody," she replied. "What's your address?"

He sighed. "They took it from me."

She shrugged. "Well, alright then. You can crash at my place for now. It's not much, but it's good enough for one night."

The waitress placed a coin into the transport slot, and within moments a battered disk with handrails lowered. "Watch your step," she said. "It's going to be bumpy."

He practically tumbled onto the transport, and she strapped him in before placing her palm on the controller. The transport rose, and she quickly navigated through the traffic before landing on a small pad on top of a squat, brown building.

"Here we are then," she said, and he looked up warily.

"I might have lost my hat during the ride," he replied.

She laughed. "Well, at least you've sobered up. Come on. I'm only one floor down."

He willingly followed after her, wondering why she was doing this. Maybe it was because they were both blonde? Brointhinkalan wasn't friendly to people with his hair color; it was why he had tried drinking himself into a stupor. Job hunting was hard enough, his hair color was an added difficulty. He wondered how she had managed to stay at the pub.

Her door was right by the stairwell, probably because she would notice transporter traffic more than others since her bedroom seemed to be located directly under the pad. He stood uncertainly in the common room, taking in the plain- but bright- decor, the small sofa, and a dated view screen set in the wall. No doubt this was the worst flat in the building, but she made it work.

It looked… cozy. Like a home. He suddenly felt nervous, and he had no idea why.

"Do you have celery?" he blurted when she walked in with a hangover remedy.

She looked slightly confused and he gulped the remedy down in embarrassment, shuddering as it raced through his body. It was cheap, and it burned, but it did the job and he was finally thinking clearly. His vision was still a little blurry, and he reached into his jacket pocket to grab his glasses. He frowned. He didn't have glasses; perhaps the cure wasn't as potent as he thought…

"I'm afraid I don't," she replied. "Why?"

He blinked. "I had the oddest desire to pin it to my jacket."

She looked like she was about to laugh. "Your jacket?"

"I'm sure its the height of fashion," he insisted, but that only served to tip her over; she let out a snort before covering her mouth with her hands, eyes dancing. He blushed. Yes, definitely not very potent.

"Er, do you have a name I can call you?" he asked, somewhat awkward and trying to change the subject.

"You can call me Sero," she replied. "Feel better?"

He nodded. The name seemed… wrong, but he knew the benefits of using a false name. It made disappearing easier. As she took the glass and moved back to the small kitchen he looked her over. She was pretty, with a wide, full mouth, compassionate brown eyes that held curious flecks of gold, and was around 5'5". "Yes, thank you. I'm, er, sorry for intruding like this." He blinked, hard, when her image became superimposed with another- she was wearing a dress and her tongue was poking out between her teeth with a smile, and she was leaning against the side of a building. Though the image vanished, he could still see it in the back of his mind.

"It's not a bother at all," she said with a smile. "We have to look after each other; it's not like anyone else will." She sat down on the sofa and patted the spot beside her. "So, tell me about yourself."

He sat down. "Well, there's not much to tell. Left home at eight, managed to get a medical degree but no one would trust me to operate on them. I've been a receptionist for the past five months, until I was accused of stealing. So here I am."

She nodded. "My dad died when I was a baby, so mum raised me on her own. She's blonde, too, and times weren't easy; still managed to get a general service degree and I've been hopping around finding a job wherever they will have me. Got the job at the pub two weeks ago, and I think I'm about to get fired again, but I'll move on. I'm used to travelling."

He smiled at their shared circumstance. "I'm a bit of a traveller myself, I suppose. Never seem to be able to sit still. I'm amazed I've stayed in one place for this long, really."

"Well, I'm glad."

He tilted his head, bemused. "Why?"

"Well, I got to meet you, for starters," she said, taking his hand in hers. He was surprised at how well they fit. "That's got to count for something."

He blushed slightly. "Well, yes, I suppose it does."

He would have been lying if he said he didn't notice the interest in her eyes. She might have helped him to her small flat out of compassion, but she wanted him to stay for an entirely different reason. He wanted to stay, too. He was being pulled toward her in a way he couldn't explain, in a way that made sense to his hearts. It was… dizzying.

They talked for another hour, slowly gravitating towards each other, finding a kinship of shared difficulties and situations. He had long forgotten about the files, or his unemployed status, and the fact that he was probably keeping her up later than he should since she still had a job, but that didn't matter, because she was witty and charming and beautiful and he was kissing her.

Oh. That wasn't really planned.

He couldn't pull away, though.

To his even greater surprise, she was kissing him back, pressing him against the arm of the sofa and climbing on top of him. He stiffened in shock, hands gripping her waist, but when he felt her smile against his lips he sighed and gave in, deepening the kiss and tangling one hand into her golden hair. She sighed into the kiss, pressing her hips into his, and if he had been trying to hide his reaction there was no use now.

"We can stop," she panted when they broke away to breathe. "I didn't… I didn't have this in mind when I offered to take you here."

He tucked a strand behind her hair. "I know. And it's okay. I'm not… I'm not one for falling into bed with a complete stranger, but with you, I might just make an exception."

"Good," she admitted, "because it would have been hard to pull away. You have the most fascinating grey eyes; I was hoping all night that you wouldn't notice me staring at you."

"My eyes, really?" he asked, surprised.

She kissed the tip of his nose. "Well, among other things," she smirked. Before he could question her further she was kissing him again and going for the buttons on his jacket, and he gave a mental shrug and sat up some so she could remove it.

When she was only in her bra and shorts and he had all but his trousers removed, they managed to roll off the sofa and stumble to her bedroom. "I'm sorry," he gasped as she bumped into the doorframe.

"'S alright," she replied, and pulled away from him to back into the room. She was lit by the small glow orbs hovering in the corners of the rather tiny room. "Though we might want to get out of the danger zone."

He stepped towards her, only for her to step away once more. "You're teasing me," he accused, wondering how she could take the time to play games.

"Only a little," she smirked. "Got to make you work for it a bit."

"Oh, I'm going to work for it," he said, stalking towards her. She giggled and dove for the bed, and he was soon with her, tussling and laughing as she squirmed against him. She won, perched above him, a gleam in her eyes that made him shiver slightly in anticipation.

"You sure about this?" she asked again, and at his nod she reached behind her to remove her bra.

He swallowed heavily and smoothed his hands over her shoulders to her elbows. "You're… beautiful," he finally replied, and flushed. "Not that you aren't beautiful with clothes, of course…"

She giggled. "Shut up and kiss me."

He did so, and moved his hands to her shorts. She waited until he had removed both them and her knickers before removing his trousers and pants, and she smiled when she saw how much he wanted her. He blushed, looking adorably embarrassed, and she pressed a kiss to the wrinkle between his eyebrows. "I'm quite flattered," she teased, rubbing herself against him. They both sighed at the contact.

"I…" he groaned. "I haven't done this in a while."

"Me neither," she said, and he pulled her into a kiss.

Despite never having seen her before in his life, his motions seemed guided by instinct. His hands coaxed sounds out of her he had never dreamed of, and she seemed to know exactly how to heighten his arousal. So when she took him in hand to guide him into her, he was barely surprised by how right it felt.

His mind was overwhelmed by the image of her below him, hair spread out on a pillow, eyes full of devotion and love and- she rolled her hips and he groaned, the image that felt like a memory disappearing abruptly.

He let her set the pace, hands on her hips and awe in his heart, as he watched the woman above him. She was… gorgeous. The glow orbs seemed to reflect off of her, causing her to glow; it was gone when he blinked, but her knowing smile made him wonder if there was something else going on. But his mind refused to continue the train of thought, since the jolt of pleasure that rocketed through him at her slight change of angle pointed out what she was doing to him.

It was sighs and moans and the sensation of joining with someone he didn't know he was missing; they moved together like they had always meant to be together, long-lost lovers separated by life and circumstances beyond their control only to be reunited under the wrong circumstances but the right time. He pulled her down into a hard, desperate kiss, then rolled her underneath him as he increased the pace, one hand moving between them to rub at her clit. She gasped and writhed. The image was different from the one in his mind- her sheets were beige, not white, and the woman in his image had hair of a paler blonde, but the look she gave him- oh, he nearly fell apart. It was love, love and lust and a devotion so powerful he wondered how he had ever warranted such a feeling. He was so little in the scheme of things.

"Doctor," she gasped, and the word resonated within him. He came with a quiet cry, his motion faltering, but he made sure to use his memory- yes, memory, this was Rose, his brave, beautiful Rose- to tip her over the edge with him.

When they finally disentangled themselves and curled up under the sheets, Rose gave him a small smile. "Does this mean I have to move again?"

He chuckled slightly and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "No. The files are in my jacket pocket. All we have to do is give them to the reporter and she'll make sure they're used properly."

Rose sighed. "Good. I've missed you. I know you had to suppress yourself in case the people in charge of the company caught wind of your telepathy, but it's been…" she pressed her face into his shoulder. "It was hard staying away from you."

He stroked her hair. "It's fine now, Rose. And don't think I don't remember those few… liaisons we've had while here. I might not remember it as Peter- it's a rubbish name, I still don't know why you decided to call me that- but a Time Lord mind means Time Lord memory, and I absolutely remember that time in the alley, and in my flat, and on the transporter."

"Well, you're the one so against public sex," she said cheekily. "Had to take advantage of your altered ego somehow."

The Doctor chuckled and tickled her, and Rose squirmed as she laughed. "Can we please leave now?" she finally asked once he had stopped. "You can only be you for an hour, and I don't want Peter to do something idiotic and ruin everything we've done."

"Don't worry, I can give it to her and we can be gone within a few minutes," he promised. "But we'll have to leave soon; the longer I stay aware, the easier it is for the organization to track us."

Rose kissed him before rolling out of bed. "I'll get the shower running. There's not much hot water, though, just warning you now."

"We could share," he offered, hopefully.

"You and I both know that'll be a distraction we can't have," she said, regretfully. "Don't worry, I won't take long."

He used the time to quickly pack the few personal items she had, and when she stepped out he quickly hopped in behind her to rinse off. He didn't bother with his hair and was out in a few minutes, the water just turning lukewarm when he shut it off.

"Everything packed?" he asked when he entered the common room. Rose had laid out his regular clothes on the bed, and he finally felt himself again.

She nodded. "Everything else in here came with the room. Have the papers?"

He patted his jacket. "All in order."

They met the reporter at their pre-determined location, and didn't exchange words; he simply handed her the papers and they left, not even bothering to take a transport since it was easily traced through DNA on the coin. The TARDIS was in sight when the Doctor felt the tell-tale sign of discovery, but before anyone could do anything about it the TARDIS was in the Vortex, safe and sound.

"Thank god that's over," Rose groaned. "Five months in a place that ostracized me because of my hair color, my partner hypnotized and under cover, and living with all sorts of insects and vermin. There was a rat in my pantry last week!" she ranted.

The Doctor eyed her warily. "I did give you money so you could get better housing."

"I got accused of stealing it," Rose replied, flatly. "So you, mister, are going to take me home so I can visit my mum, and then I'm demanding at least a week long spa treatment so these last five months will be nothing but a bad memory."

He gulped and nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"But first…"

The Doctor didn't have it in him to deny her when she got that gleam in her eyes. And well, he and Jackie had never been overly fond of each other anyway, so any delay in returning Rose home was a happy one.

(although if Jackie ever caught wind of this sort of activity, he'd be lucky if the pain of the slap she'd give him lasted through the rest of this particular regeneration. He was still half-convinced he had felt the last one in his third life.)


End file.
